It is said that Borrow ran until he reached Old Tucker’s Inn at Cromer, where he ate “five excellent sausages” and found calm. He then went on to Sheringham and related the incident to the Upchers.
These lonely walking tours soothed Borrow’s restless mind. He had constant change of scene, and his thoughts were diverted by the adventures of the roadside. He encountered many and interesting people, on one occasion an old man who remembered the fight between Painter and Oliver; at another time he saw a carter beating his horse which had fallen down. “Give him a pint of ale, and I will pay for it,” counselled Borrow. After the second pint the beast got up and proceeded, “pulling merrily . . . with the other horses.”
Ale was Borrow’s sovereign remedy for the world’s ills and wrongs. It was by ale that he had been cured when the “Horrors” were upon him in the dingle. “Oh, genial and gladdening is the power of good ale, the true and proper drink of Englishmen,” he exclaims after having heartened Jack Slingsby and his family. “He is not deserving of the name of Englishman,” he continues, “who speaketh against ale, that is good ale.” [425a] To John Murray (the Third) he wrote in his letter of sympathy on the death of his father: “Pray keep up your spirits, and that you may be able to do so, take long walks and drink plenty of Scotch ale with your dinner . . . God bless you.”
He liked ale “with plenty of malt in it, and as little hop as well may be—ale at least two years old.” [425b] The period of its maturity changed with his mood. In another place he gives nine or ten months as the ideal age. [425c] He was all for an Act of Parliament to force people to brew good ale. He not only drank good ale himself; but prescribed it as a universal elixir for man and beast. Hearing from Elizabeth Harvey “of a lady who was attached to a gentleman,” Borrow demanded bluntly, “Well, did he make her an offer?” “No,” was the response. “Ah,” Borrow replied with conviction, “if she had given him some good ale he would.” [425d]
He loved best old Burton, which, with ’37 port, were his favourites; yet he would drink whatever ale the roadside-inn provided, as if to discipline his stomach. It has been said that he habitually drank “swipes,” a thin cheap ale, because that was the drink of his gypsy friends; but Borrow’s friendship certainly did not often involve him in anything so distasteful.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE ROMANY RYE. 1854–1859
Borrow was not a great correspondent, and he left behind him very few letters from distinguished men of his time. Among those few were several from Edward FitzGerald, whose character contrasted so strangely with that of the tempestuous Borrow. In 1856 FitzGerald wrote:—
31 Great Portland Street,
London, 27th October 1856.My Dear Sir,—It is I who send you the new Turkish Dictionary [Redhouse’s Turkish & English Dictionary] which ought to go by this Post; my reasons being that I bought it really only for the purpose of doing that little good to the spirited Publisher of the book (who thought when he began it that the [Crimean] War was to last), and I send it to you because I should be glad of your opinion, if you can give it. I am afraid that you will hardly condescend to use it, for you abide in the old Meninsky; but if you will use it, I shall be very glad. I don’t think I ever shall; and so what is to be done with it now it is bought?
I don’t know what Kerrich told you of my being too lazy to go over to Yarmouth to see you a year ago. No such thing as that. I simply had doubts as to whether you would not rather remain unlookt for. I know I enjoyed my evening with you a month ago. I wanted to ask you to read some of the Northern Ballads too; but you shut the book.
I must tell you. I am come up here on my way to Chichester to be married! to Miss Barton (of Quaker memory) and our united ages amount to 96!—a dangerous experiment on both sides. She at least brings a fine head and heart to the bargain—worthy of a better market. But it is to be, and I dare say you will honestly wish we may do well.
Keep the book as long as you will. It is useless to me. I shall be to be heard of through Geldeston Hall, Beccles. With compliments to Mrs Borrow, believe me,
Yours truly,
Edward FitzGerald.
P.S.—Donne is well, and wants to know about you.
A few months later FitzGerald wrote again:
Albert House, Gorleston,
6th July 1857.Dear Borrow,—Will you send me [The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam] by bearer. I only want to look at him, for that Frenchman [427] has been misquoting him in a way that will make [Professor] E. Cowell [of Cambridge] answerable for another’s blunder, which must not be. You shall have ’Omar back directly, or whenever you want him, and I should really like to make you a copy (taking my time) of the best Quatrains. I am now looking over the Calcutta MS. which has 500!—very many quite as good as those in the MS. you have; but very many in both MSS. are well omitted.
I have been for a fortnight to Geldeston where Kerrich is not very well. I shall look for you one day in my Yarmouth rounds, and you know how entirely disengaged and glad to see you I am here. I have two fresh Nieces with me—and I find I gave you the worst wine of two samples Diver sent me. I wish you would send word by bearer you are better—this one word written will be enough you see.
My old Parson Crabbe is bowing down under epileptic fits, or something like, and I believe his brave old white head will soon sink into the village Churchsward. Why, our time seems coming. Make way, Gentlemen!—Yours very truly,
Edward FitzGerald.